Earth is a beautiful planet, lush with life, overflowing with energy and ripe for the taking. The Decepticons want to conquer it and harness that energy for their own purposes. The Autobots want to keep it out of Decepticon hands. This forum contains their battles and struggles all across the planet.

Oil Slick was ready to simply terminate Smokescreen as Tracer informed him that the data slug was now lost. It would be an unfortunate loss having to terminate the both of them, or at least taking them prisoner. It would mean the loss of any further intelligence on the Autobots which would have been a powerful bargaining chip in the Decepticon leadership struggle. If he could take one of them back alive though there would still be some worth in it as at least a test subject.

His thoughts were interrupted as Tracer told him how she had memorized the details of the data slug. The Decepticon doubted the validity of that statement. He had never known Tracer to have a perfect memory and he wasn’t willing to risk everything on that. Not to mention the whole thing had that tinge of self sacrifice to it that seemed all too common among Autobots. When Smokescreen spoke up saying nearly the same thing he felt the spark of anger flare up inside of him again. Perhaps he should simply terminate them both and be done with it.

The Decepticon’s attention was drawn back to Tracer as she claimed to have information she could give him immediately. He listened impatiently as she gave him more details then he needed. Perhaps she was stalling for time? Finally she got around to the point and informed him of Prime’s death.

The chemist considered the bit of news. There had certainly been a suspicion among the Decepticons that Prime may have perished with Megatron, but it was only a suspicion. If true this bit of information would be the first confirmation of that suspicion. It was one that could be validated through various tortures and procedures conducted on Tracer. The fact that he would take some small pleasure in the process of confirming that information was a bonus.

“Very well." Oil Slick shoved Smokescreen to the ground, planting a foot on his back to keep him pinned down. He pointed his acid sprayers at Tracer. “You will come with me. Your associate will stay here. Any deviation from this will result in the swift termination of both of you, understood?"

Smokescreen lowered his head towards the ground as Tracer told her former dealer that Optimus Prime was dead. She confirmed what was, up until now, only speculation. Now the enemy knew that the Autobots were without Prime, even if the manner of his disappearance was in question. Many believed Optimus to be dead while others, like the diversion expert, felt that he was still alive and out there somewhere waiting to be reactivated. At this point it mattered not which was the truth as Oil Slick would simply relay to the rest of the ‘Cons that the Autobots had no real leader and thus were vulnerable in that regard.

“No...Tracer...." were the only words Smokescreen could utter as his optics remained staring down at the rocky terrain beneath him. He let out a defeated sigh as Oil Slick considered this new bit of information. Finally, after what seemed like vorns, the chemical expert shoved the rallybot faceplate first into the dirt and planted a foot squarely onto his back, pinning him to the ground. The gangly ‘Con then pointed his acid emitters at Tracer and ordered her to come with him while her red and blue companion remained behind. If either one of them deviated from these instructions they would be immediately terminated.

“No...." Smokescreen uttered again in a still weakened tone as he knew that if Tracer went with Oil Slick she would likely be tortured endlessly by Darkride. If what happened to Bumblebee was any indication, it would leave the troubled femme even more emotionally scarred than she already was, if she survived at all. I have to do something, anything! Get up Smokescreen! Get the frag up and save her!

Feeling the Decepticon’s foot pressing into his damaged back, the rallybot knew his options were limited. He had little strength left and no weapon to use against his much stronger foe. At best he could only buy Tracer enough time to escape, but it wouldn’t be much, just enough to get back inside the shuttle and take off. As far as the diversion expert, himself, was concerned he was resided to his fate. He would sacrifice his own spark to save hers and he was okay with it. He’d been fighting this war for so long it would be a welcome relief for it to finally end for him, even though the fight would rage on for everyone else.

It’s now or never. I have to move fast, Smokescreen thought as he re-routed his systems to access what auxiliary power he still had left. He felt a renewed strength flow into him. It wasn’t much but it would be enough for him to pull off this one final attempt to save Tracer. Seeing an opportunity to take advantage of his missing limb, the rallybot quickly twisted his body counter clockwise, scraping his right side and bleeding stump against the rocky ground. The pain he felt was excruciating, but the lack of an appendage made it easier to squirm his way out from under his captor. At the same time as his body continued to turn over, Smokey swung his left arm around and up, finding Oil Slick's leg that had been on his back and grabbing a hold of it. Using what leverage he had, the diversion expert managed to pull himself onto his back and yank the chemical specialist’s foot sideways in an attempt to knock his opponent off balance.

“Now.....Tracer! Run.....run for the shuttle! RUN!!!" The rallybot shouted as he continued to pull on the Syk dealer’s leg with his left hand. He hoped she would listen to him and escape while she could. Smokescreen’s time was short now as Oil Slick would surely unleash his fury upon the desperate Autobot for his insolence.

With his back to the ground, the red and blue racer looked up at Oil Slick and smiled. “You’ll....never get...what you want....Slick. Never!" And with that said, Smokescreen waited for the inevitable to happen.

Oil Slick did his best to ignore the Autobot beneath his foot. His pathetic struggles and cries were near an end now, one way or the other. The Decepticon looked forward to that as his interference had nearly ruined this entire operation. It still was not going to be as valuable as he had hoped, but at this point salvaging anything from it would have to be considered a success.

Apparently the Autobot wasn’t about to let things end easily however. With a shout he wriggled and twisted under his foot, doing just enough to send the chemist stumbling. The small spark of rage that had been kept under control inside of him roared to life briefly as he glared down at Smokescreen. While this pathetic attack was minor and a futile gesture, the indignity of it was enough to send Oil Slick, ever so briefly, over the edge.

Oil Slick raised his arm, leveling it directly at the prone form of Smokescreen. A cold, uncaring voice spoke one word to the Autobot. “Die." The next sound was the hiss of his acid sprayers as a fount of the toxic chemicals spewed out of them, splashing with a hiss on the Autobot’s torso. The chemicals began rapidly eating through armor, creating a noxious cloud over the Autobot. The slightest of satisfied smiles crossed Oil Slick’s face as the troublesome Autobot was finally stopped from interfering.

“Die” was the last thing Smokescreen heard, besides his own screams of pain and suffering, as Oil Slick unleashed a gush of acidic chemicals directly onto the diversion expert’s torso region. It was not an unexpected reaction from the Syk dealer, but the realization that his end was near filled Smokey with a sudden sense of fear. Would he end up one with the Allspark or would he find himself in some kind of hell for dishonest mechs like him. There were many things Smokey had done throughout his existence that he wasn’t particularly proud of, but he regretted none of it. He was who he was. His lying and cheating were attributes that he was always good at, allowing him to get what he wanted whether it be winning at illegal street racing and gambling before the war started or diverting the enemy’s attention once he had joined the Autobots afterwards.

To a certain extent, those same deceitful skills had allowed Smokescreen to redeem himself somewhat during the endless conflict, aiding his allies in countless battles with the ‘Cons. But even that was not a complete redemption as he still had the tendency to lie to his comrades behind the scenes, sometimes even at the behest of Optimus Prime, himself, in order to learn what the other ‘Bots were really thinking and feeling. He had convinced himself that he wasn’t really lying because he was doing what his leader had requested. But no matter how you energon-coated it, it was still deceit at the end of the cycle. Deception was in his nature and there was no denying that fact. It was a trait that Smokey had long since accepted about himself, and he would never apologize for it.

Of course, Smokescreen had fallen back into his deceitful ways once again in his recent quest to help his dear friend, Tracer, break her Syk addiction. He had lied to his comrades and even called in a favor to Wheeljack to help him pull off his newest charade. Worse still, Smokey had stolen a shuttle and descended to Earth without authorization before engaging a dangerous Decepticon haphazardly. It had all led to his current predicament and the ultimate end that was all but imminent now.

The diversion expert’s screams began to dissipate as the acid ate through his already damaged chest plating and into the vital circuitry underneath. A toxic cloud of vapor hovered over him while his HUD flickered erratically, attempting to show the status of each of his systems as they began to either shut down or melt away one at a time, including his central nerve core. At least the pain was now gone, replaced with a numbing feeling that quickly consumed his desecrated body. With his right arm gone and his torso severely melted almost beyond recognition, stasis would soon overtake him. However, he tried to hang on just a little bit longer in the hopes of seeing Tracer escape the same fate that had just befallen him.

Everything happened so fast. What was supposed to be a simple meeting had turned into a nightmare. It took everything Tracer had to keep from breaking down and falling into a quivering ball of fear. That fear was not directed toward herself, but for Smokescreen. She had dragged him into this mess and now he was paying the price for her addiction.

She didn’t have much time to chide herself because Smokescreen had attempted a desperate maneuver in order to buy her enough time to make a quick escape. Tracer took an astrosecond to look over her shoulder at the waiting shuttle, but she quickly put the idea of leaving out of her mind. She swore that she would not leave him and she was sticking to that decision.

Tracer had finally seen an opening when Smokescreen turned over onto his back and took hold of Oil Slick’s leg and causing the chemist to stumble. The scout raised her arms, hands balled into tight fists, and made ready to lunge at her dealer, but the Decepticon moved like lightning because he was back on steady feet and aiming his deadly acid sprayers directly at Smokescreen’s chest.

The dark blue femme’s optics widened in fright as Oil Slick uttered that singular word and proceeded to spray the diversion expert’s chest. She watched in horror as the acidic mix began to eat away at his armor and quickly dripped down further to destroy the much more delicate inner workings. But the sight was not the worst part of the attack it was the sound coming from Smokescreen. The screams that were excreted tore into her spark. She never wanted him to get hurt, and never in this way.

It was those screams that powered her conviction to save him just as he had done now and long ago. Tracer let out a loud cry just as she made for Oil Slick. The chemist never saw her coming since she was on him before he could even react.

She tackled the gangly mech who wound up flat on his back, several feet from Smokescreen, with her straddling his mid-section. Tracer struggled to keep him pinned as best she could with one arm while her free one scrambled to grab the rallybot’s discarded firearm. The weapon had fallen free of Smokescreen’s hand when his right arm was severed.

Oil Slick fought back valiantly, but it didn’t last. Tracer had finally gotten a grip on the barrel of the gun and brought it up chest high; she then pounded the butt end violently into the face of the green and back mech. It had taken only a moment before Oil Slick slipped into unconsciousness.

Tracer slid off Oil Slick’s mid-section, her internal fans whirring loudly as they attempted to cool her overheating internals. Knowing that their attacker was incapacitated Tracer scrambled on hands and knees to Smokescreen’s side. The anger that had worked its way into her entire being had faded away leaving nothing but dread.

“Smokey? Oh please Primus don’t take him from me; not now."

Her hands ghosted over his destroyed form trying not to inadvertently placer her hand in a still active pool of acid. Her intakes hitched as she moved in closer to his upper body and placed her hands on either side of his face. Ever so gently she turned his head so she could look him in the optics.

“You have to hold on. I needed you then …and I need you now."

Tracer moved down lower so she was close to his audio receptor. The femme shut down her optics as she considered her last words.

Smokescreen struggled to remain conscious, but it was almost impossible as the acid crept deeper and deeper into his framework. He tried to keep his flickering optics on Tracer, hoping beyond hope that she would run back to the shuttle and escape to safety. Of course, she did not do that, not at all. Instead, she lunged at Oil Slick with a fury the rallybot had never seen in her before. Once she had tackled the ‘Con to the ground, Smokey lost sight of her as his vision faded from light to dark and back again. His HUD had ceased functioning like many of his internal systems once the acidic compound had reached them. All that he had left were the sounds of their scuffle and the wonder of who would come out on top.

The answer came quickly as Tracer reached Smokescreen’s side, begging Primus not to take him from her. She then placed both of her hands on either side of his head and gently turned his cranium towards her worried gaze. The diversion expert wished he could feel her touch again, but his nerve receptors had already shorted out, which at the very least ended his pain. He then heard the troubled femme plead with him to hold on. She told Smokey that she needed him and that she considered him more than just a friend to her.

“I...know..." the rallybot muttered so low it was almost inaudible. She didn't have to explain herself, not to him. Smokescreen knew how she felt and he felt the exact same way about her. He just couldn't convey those feelings back to her at the moment. Unfortunately, now was not the time for emotions to take control. There was only one mech capable of saving the diversion expert's spark and they needed to get him to that 'Bot as quickly as possible. “Trace...take....me....to...." Smokey choked on a glob of energon that had welled up inside his throat. The purple liquid then spilled out of his mouth in a gush, running over Tracer’s delicate hands that still cradled his faceplate. "....Wheel.....jaaack...."

Smokescreen had barely gotten those last words out when his spark chamber closed and sealed itself shut, preventing the chemicals from reaching the life energy within. An astrosecond later, the rallybot’s optics faded to darkness as he finally let go and fell into stasis lock.

Unable to help ease his suffering, Tracer kept her vigil over him, her hands still gently caressing the sides of his face. When she thought back on it now she was unsure just how she was able to take down Oil Slick without any help. It was strange. Perhaps, she thought, the new mixture the chemist had concocted boosted her strength; although she couldn’t be sure.

Her musings ended when Smokescreen asked her to take him somewhere, but he was cut off by a choking glob of energon that had gotten stuck in his throat. The thick liquid finally came out in a heavy rush spilling over her hands and pooling on the ground.

“Alright, Smokey. I’ll take you to Wheeljack. Just stay online."

Tracer let out a low gasp when she heard the sound of Smokescreen’s spark chamber casing closing effectively shutting it off from the invading chemicals. She quickly rose up onto her knees and placed a hand over her mouth while she watched his optics fade to an inky black.

The scout shook her heat; it started out slow but the speed increased when she finally realized that he had slipped into stasis lock.

“No…no."

She stared at his unmoving form for a breem before she was able to pull herself together. Tracer kept her optics glued to him as she drew in a deep intake of air. The fear of losing him faded and was replaced by the need to keep him alive.

Tracer got back on her feet and moved in behind Smokescreen, taking up a position behind his head. Without a word she bent down placing her forearms around his upper arms. With a low grunt and a wince Tracer rose up to her full height and started to pull Smokescreen back toward the shuttle’s ramp.

She may have had the luxury of an extra boost of strength while taking care of Oil Slick, but now she was just too distraught to make use of the ability.

With one last tug, Tracer laid Smokescreen’s upper body gently down on the floor. She’d have to pilot the shuttle as carefully as possible so as not to do more harm to his already battered frame.

Tracer stood up and paused to take in everything that had occurred up until now. She asked for his help and he readily stepped up. He wanted so much to help her only for him to wind up on death’s doorstep. What have I done? She shook her processor clear and made her way to the pilot’s seat. The dark blue scout then proceeded to initiate the take-off procedures. Once set the engines came to life with a fiery burst and she got to work reprogramming the navigation system with the location of their new destination.

As Tracer was working she took a quick look over her shoulder and caught sight of Razr. The poor turbofox had gone into hiding when Oil Slick had turned his acid sprayers on the shuttle. Glad to see her pet finally make an appearance, Tracer flashed him a smile, but it was soon replaced by a worried expression. Razr was able to read her as if she was his own species. He looked down at the mangled form of Smokescreen and back up to Tracer.

“Keep an eye on him, Razr. Don’t let anything happen to him."

The turbofox cocked his head slightly as he took in her request and then turned his attention back down to the blue and red mech. Wanting to please his friend and keep close as possible to someone he knows, Razr laid down next to Smokescreen and placed his muzzle down on the mech’s shoulder.

Another smile creased her lips as she watched the yellow and silver creature place his head gently on the rallybot’s shoulder assembly. The gesture gave her some hope that she would get him back to the Ark – 22 and have Wheeljack repair him.

“Okay, Razr. Here we go."

As the shuttle began to rise from the planet’s surface Tracer spoke to her fallen friend in a whisper.

“Hang in there, Smokey. I have so much to tell you…and I don’t want you to miss a word."

Tracer said a silent prayer to Primus and every other Cybertronian deity she could think of for their safe return to the Ark – 22. With any luck, and she hoped for as much as the universe would provide, they would not come across any hindrances.

Breaking through the light foliage of the trees canopy, the shuttle hovered for a moment giving Tracer time to input a new series of command igniting the small ship’s thrusters. There was a slight hesitation right before the shuttle lurched forward.

As the ship rocketed across the sky she went to work on the controls sending the nose of the craft up toward the great beyond. And while they advanced toward their destination, Tracer took another long look over her shoulder. Razr was doing his part by watching Smokey as best he could. Of course the shuttle’s jostling was not helping matters and Tracer let out a low hiss.

“Good boy, Razr. Make sure he doesn’t get bumped around the cabin. I’m counting on you."

The turbofox had raised his head to stare at his master while she reinforced the order she had provided earlier. The creature already knew how important Smokescreen was to her and he did not want to disappoint her. He was also quite partial to the diversion expert. He seemed to be the only one who could bring his master out of her frequent depressive state. After all, Razr knew Smokey for many vorns, only slightly less than his master, but he still knew the right person when he saw one.

Tracer turned back around to face the forward window, but her thoughts remained with the mech still in stasis lock on the floor behind her.

As her attention from the prostrate form of Smokescreen was moved back to the window she felt more predictable jostling. The femme let out a yelp of surprise at just how powerful the movements were this time around. She had been too preoccupied with the current situation that she had all but neglected to note that the navigational computer had already taken them through the planet’s atmosphere. She took a closer look outside the window; they were completely surrounded by the light of the stars and the lone satellite that circled the organic body.

Before the scout could relax, however, the rough ride seemed to grow much worse. Tracer tried to gain some insight on just what the problem might be by checking the scanners. But there was nothing. Not even an errant Earthen satellite. She continued to work the equipment but was stopped by the resounding alarm.

“Slag."

Tracer moved about the cabin checking and rechecking systems until she finally caught sight of the one sensor she had missed.

“Hull breach? But the landing and take off went off without a hitch."

She ran through every scenario while they had been on the planet but she could not recall anything puncturing the metal skin of the shuttle; namely weapons fire…

“No. Oil Slick’s acid sprayers. That has to be it!"

The femme could not remember what the mech had done due to her unconsciousness while within the craft, but it was the only logical explanation.

“Damn you Oil Slick."

Tracer nearly jumped back into her chair and swiftly switched the shuttle’s automated control to manual. With the breach in the side of the ship the autopilot would slow the engines and stall the advance. Not a viable option since she needed to get Smokescreen back on board the Ark – 22. She spared the diversion expert and Razr a quick look.

When she turned to face forward she recalled what Smokescreen had told her. He requested that she contact Wheeljack if something happened to him. As quickly as she could, Tracer turned her attention to the communications console. She carefully opened a heavily encrypted and private comm. channel to the engineer.

>>"Wheeljack. This is Tracer. I’m the friend Smokescreen accompanied to the planet’s surface. We’re currently en route to the 22, but the shuttle has acquired a hull breach. I don’t think it’s going to make it all the way to the ship. And we need to get there as soon as possible. Smokescreen…Smokey’s been hurt. He’s in stasis lock and he needs help."<<

>>"Tracer, this is Wheeljack. I read you. Stay where you are, and I will bounce you on board shortly."<<

>>"Tracer, this is Wheeljack again. I’m having a hard time locking on to you. If you’re still wearing my signature inhibitors, you need to take them off both yourself and Smokescreen. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee the bounce will be successful. Do you understand?"<<

It seemed as though time had stood still within the confines of the shuttle. The streaking mass of lights that formed during space travel had ceased leaving only shining orbs in their place. But Tracer paid little attention to any of it. Right now her optics were transfixed on Smokescreen and her audios were tuned into the communications line. How long had it been since she’d contacted Wheeljack? Not long. Just give him a few more minutes, he’ll respond…he has to.

And then came that long awaited tone. The femme tore her eyes away from the stasis locked mech and focused in on the communications console. Tracer let out a sigh of relief when she heard Wheeljack’s voice coming through the line.

>>"Tracer, this is Wheeljack. I read you. Stay where you are, and I will bounce you on board shortly."<<

Wheeljack cut the line even before she could give him a word of thanks. At this point, however, she didn’t mind the abrupt end. She only wished to get Smokescreen back on board the Ark - 22 and have him repaired. Nothing else mattered.

Tracer went back to the shuttles navigation controls and ceased their commands halting the shuttle’s already slow moving advance. That’s when another communication came through. Again from the engineer.

>>"Tracer, this is Wheeljack again. I’m having a hard time locking on to you. If you’re still wearing my signature inhibitors, you need to take them off both yourself and Smokescreen. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee the bounce will be successful. Do you understand?"<<

She took a quick look around and noticed a few small bits of metallic debris lying beneath Smokescreen’s frame. That was when she recalled the rallybot attaching the signature suppressor to her back and her doing the same with his.

>>"I understand, Wheeljack."<<

Tracer stepped away from the pilot’s chair and carefully knelt down beside Smokescreen. Gently the femme lifted him slightly and took a look to see if the inhibitor was still in place. When she saw that there was nothing left to most of his back she lowered him back down and stood back up to her full height. The fight he was in and the acid attack had melted most of the inhibitor leaving nothing but a few lose bits of metal…the same metal that was now littered beneath and the side of the red and blue mech.

Now that she knew his device was no longer functioning, Tracer went to work trying to remove her own. She reached around to her back first with one hand and then the other, but it was no use. Without anyone else there the device was there to stay. She let out a low sigh as she stared down at Smokescreen. Maybe it’s for the best he gets bounced alone.

Her optics lifted as she stared at the far wall. Suddenly her eyes brightened and she hastily moved to the same wall. She turned around so her back was facing the metal sheet and she began to ram her entire back against the hard metal surface. After three attempts and mangling both of her protruding door wings, she let out a pained cry slamming one last time into the wall; even harder than the previous times causing her to drop to the floor on her hands and knees.

There had been the sound of crunching metal, followed by no pain, signifying that she had successfully disabled the suppressor.

She waited a moment before she slowly got back to her feet and made her way back to the communications console. She opened up the link with Wheeljack and gave him their status.

>>"Ugh. The inhibitors have been disabled. The three of us are ready to be bounced back on board; just, please, be quick about it."<<

Oil Slick’s systems slowly reactivated from the sudden, powerful and violent attack from Tracer. Apparently the experimental syk he had given her acted as some sort of extra fuel boost. That was the only explanation for the success of her attack as he was acquainted with her physical prowess from past dealings. That was an unexpected, but interesting, side effect. If he could isolate that element it could prove quite valuable in the future.

The Decepticon sat up to see the Autobot shuttle taking off, presumably with both of the Autobots on board. The ember of anger inside of him flared up as he climbed to his feet, aiming his sprayers at the vessel. The ember was quickly doused with a dose of cold logic as the shuttle rapidly flew out of the range of his weapons. Firing now would only be a waste.

The chemist considered his situation. He had failed to obtain the data he required and lost a sample of experimental syk. The only possibility of salvaging the situation lies in the addictive properties of the chemical. He was one of the only beings alive to have extensive expertise in syk, and certainly there were no Autobots who could match him on that. Oil Slick found it unlikely that Tracer would be able to find a new source for her addiction, or anyone who could replicate his formula, particularly since he had upped the addictiveness of it. She would have to come back to him eventually, and then he would extract a harsh payment indeed.

Oil Slick leapt into the air. Flying low to avoid detection he began making his way back to the Decepticon base in construction.